Discoveries
by DJ Sparkles
Summary: Dwalin can't get Ori out of his mind. Ori can't stop thinking of Dwalin. This can't end well, can it? SLASH. Dwalin/Ori with a hint of Nori/Bofur (if you squint). Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything even remotely recognizable in this story. JRR Tolkien, New Line Cinema, and a LOT of other interests with a LOT more money than I have do and I'm just borrowing to have a little fun. Everyone will be put back when I'm finished (maybe a little the worse for wear) and I'm not making any money off this so please don't sue me.**

**THIS STORY CONTAINS SOME PRETTY SERIOUS SEX OF THE SLASH PERSUASION. If same sex couples bother you or you object to homosexuality, give it a pass. You've been warned. Flames will be saved for this winter to heat the house with.**

**Author's note: This story is NOT beta'd. I accept responsibility for any and all mistakes contained herein. If you'd like to point one out, and will do it nicely, you're more than welcome to do so via PM. If you just want to bitch, take it out the door please.**

**Author's note the second: This is a big departure from my comfort zone. PirateColey asked me for some serious Dwori smut and this is the result.**

**Dedicated to: My darling AJ, whom I still miss terribly and always will. A piece of my soul is with her where she waits for me. She would have loved this story. And to PirateColey, for pushing me outside my comfort zone and making me deliver what I think is some of my very best writing.**

Dwalin was cleaning his axes. Again.

They had been in Laketown for some time now. And during their stay, he had kept to himself.

There was no danger here to protect Thorin from. No danger to any of them, truth be told, and it put him in a foul humor. He needed something to occupy himself with and there was nothing.

Well... there was ONE thing, but he'd not yield to that temptation. Ori deserved far better than an aging warrior who knew more of battle than of life. He deserved someone better suited to his bookish ways. And he deserved better than a quick roll in the sheets.

But, he considered carefully again, the lad had no lack of courage. A fair bit of stupidity, truth be told, willing to throw himself into any fight that threatened, no matter the danger to himself. The boy could barely fight with any success. He'd depended on that slingshot for far too long.

It wasn't a worthy weapon in Dwalin's eyes, not really. A real weapon let you see, up close and personal, just how frightened your opponent was. And that fear was usually shown right before they died on his axes or crushed by his hammer.

But Ori was good with it, he admitted. Pegged that Warg right in the eye. If he'd had a bigger rock or something even better in it, he might have blinded it. Still, it wasn't enough.

He'd passed the boy his hammer in the goblins' cave, and watched with half an eye whenever he could spare it to be sure he didn't need help. He hadn't done badly. A little training with it, a little more strength to his arms, and he'd be a passable fighter. But he couldn't bring himself to make the offer.

He'd protected Ori since their journey began. At first, it had been with a sense of resignation, a sense of necessity. He had to protect Ori and Bilbo; neither was really suited for what was out in the world. But where Bilbo had learned, at least somewhat, Ori had still clung to that bloody slingshot until Dwalin wanted to take it from him and shove it firmly up his arse. It wasn't enough.

But he still couldn't make himself offer to teach Ori how to use that hammer.

And the reason for that was, quite simply, that he felt something for their scribe.

He couldn't call it love. He'd never had any acquaintance with the emotion but it certainly didn't seem akin to anything the others had described. He didn't have an overwhelming urge to shower the lad in jewels and precious metals, to make declarations of undying affection, to court him, or any of that nonsense.

What he did want was to protect Ori, even at the cost of his own life. And surely taking the time to teach him to defend himself would further that aim. So why couldn't he do it?

Because that would put him a little too close. While Ori might DESERVE a bit more than a roll in the hay, that was what Dwalin wanted. He wanted to touch the scribe, to unwrap him from those ridiculous knit items, to see each and every bit of him finally exposed, and then to tease him and torment him until the lad was mindless with it before claiming him in every way possible.

So call it lust and be done with it, he told himself firmly. It wasn't going to happen anyway. Not with Ori being stuck in his journal all the time, and not with his brothers Dori and Nori watching him like a hawk. Although – he had seen Nori with Bofur a bit earlier and it hadn't seemed like either of them was going to return any time soon. He'd seen that look before.

He rather thought it might be the same look he wore when watching his scribe. Well, when he knew others weren't looking. That "I want that and I'm going to have it" look.

He growled at himself and set Grasper aside, reaching for Keeper to give it the same treatment. Although he might have the edges worn off them at this rate. There was only so much cleaning they could take.

(Ori)

Ori's fingers were busy with his ink and parchment, but his mind was elsewhere.

After the third try to record the day's events, such as they were, he sighed heavily and set them aside, choosing instead to walk about the town, wandering here and there with no clear destination in mind.

He'd caught Dwalin watching him a few times since they arrived here and to put it bluntly, it – well, it thrilled him. It gave him a feeling deep inside that perhaps there was hope that the warrior would eventually return the feeling Ori had discovered in himself.

It wasn't like anything in his books. He'd read extensively, of course, and nothing he felt matched what had been described as love. Not even really lust, although the idea of having Dwalin strip him naked and no, stop it, Ori, RIGHT NOW.

Okay, so maybe it WAS lust.

But it didn't really matter, in the end. In the end, what mattered, was that he wanted Dwalin and he would never have him. He couldn't fight, not like Dwalin. Not even close. And while he had his knife and could use it passably well, it was nothing like Dwalin did.

So why couldn't he ask for help? He knew Dwalin would train him if he asked. He knew any of the others would, as well. But it was Dwalin's help he wanted, Dwalin he wanted near. And the way things were going not only would it never happen in this lifetime, it probably wouldn't happen in any other, either.

So. He had to do something or he'd never know one way or the other. And while it would hurt if Dwalin rejected him, it would also tell him where he stood. But this was so far outside of his experience that he didn't know how to go about it.

His books, which should have explained at least something about how to deal with this sort of situation, had let him down. Of course, he didn't have access to everything he had in Ered Luin, in the Blue Mountains. Out here, all he really had were memories of what he'd read, and those were admittedly a bit weak.

He was stalling. He didn't really want to face the bigger Dwarf, and certainly not with the threat of rejection looming. It wasn't exactly fair, either. Nori had Bofur and while that pair certainly didn't make any sense to him, it clearly underscored the fact that none among them would quibble at an affair.

Dori might, considering he was Ori's oldest brother and a bit of an overprotective one. But he would have to learn to live with Ori's choices eventually.

Enough. Ori thought he might have the answer to how to approach Dwalin, but he had no idea what to do once he got there. He'd have to improvise.

And so thinking, he went and got Dwalin's warhammer from his room. He hadn't given it back yet, though he wasn't very good with it either. He still preferred his sling – but he'd learn this if it would give him time alone with Dwalin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything even remotely recognizable in this story. JRR Tolkien, New Line Cinema, and a LOT of other interests with a LOT more money than I have do and I'm just borrowing to have a little fun. Everyone will be put back when I'm finished (maybe a little the worse for wear) and I'm not making any money off this so please don't sue me.**

**THIS STORY CONTAINS SOME PRETTY SERIOUS SEX OF THE SLASH PERSUASION. If same sex couples bother you or you object to homosexuality, give it a pass. You've been warned. Flames will be saved for this winter to heat the house with.**

**Author's note: This story is NOT beta'd. I accept responsibility for any and all mistakes contained herein. If you'd like to point one out, and will do it nicely, you're more than welcome to do so via PM. If you just want to bitch, take it out the door please.**

**Author's note the second: This is a big departure from my comfort zone. PirateColey asked me for some serious Dwori smut and this is the result.**

**Dedicated to: My darling AJ, whom I still miss terribly and always will. A piece of my soul is with her where she waits for me. She would have loved this story. And to PirateColey, for pushing me outside my comfort zone and making me deliver what I think is some of my very best writing.**

TWO

Dwalin had been training, yet again, in hopes of wearing his body down at least enough for him to sleep. Thoughts of Ori wouldn't leave him alone, plaguing him at all hours of the day and night, thoughts of what his scribe would look like naked, flushed with passion. And there it was again. He ran another pass with his axes, unaware at first that he was being watched.

Ori simply stood and stared for a few moments. Dwalin was a treat to watch any time, but this, this was torture. The warrior had stripped down to train, leaving his breeches and boots on but little else. The rest of him was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, clearly defining each tattoo and scar and leaving little to his fevered imagination. He had the very clear thought that this might have been a mistake, but if it was, he would accept it. He had to know.

Dwalin stopped suddenly and his axes dropped to his sides. "I know yer there," he rumbled. "Come on out, then."

Ori stepped forward into the torchlight and swallowed heavily. This was going to be difficult. For someone who worked with words, who used them for effect, he was certainly not able to find the right ones for this situation. All he really wanted to do was to touch those tattoos, those scars. To touch HIM.

Dwalin stared for a moment. That look on the lad's face, the expression there, it shocked him into immobility. He'd never seen that kind of hunger, not directed at himself. That raw, aching need. He had to stop this NOW or he was going to take what was clearly being offered. "Was there somethin ye wanted, Ori?" But his voice was soft.

"Oh!" Ori seemed to come back to himself a bit. "I just wanted to return your hammer," he said evenly. He was a bit proud of the fact that he seemed to have gotten the words out in more or less recognizable order and pressed on. "And to ask if maybe you would teach me how to use it." And those were guaranteed to get an answer from Dwalin, though maybe not the answer he was wanting. It wasn't just the hammer he wanted to learn from Dwalin, but maybe it would be best -

"Aye. Come here, lad. No time like the present." Dwalin knew it was a mistake but he'd make it gladly. His scribe wanted to learn to defend himself without that bloody sling and that was worth a lot to him. That he hadn't been able to make the offer seemed a bit ridiculous to him now. On the other hand, having the boy so close, that was going to be pure torture.

Ori moved closer. Mahal, this was going to be difficult. And he still didn't know how Dwalin truly felt! Was he merely responding to Ori's request for training, or was there something more? He couldn't tell and it was maddening.

"First, ye have to learn how to hold it," Dwalin remarked as he reached around Ori's waist to grip his hands. "Don't clutch so at the haft, lad. If ye grip too hard, the first blow will numb yer hands and ye'll lose it. Ease up a bit."

Ease up. Ori couldn't loosen his grip if he tried, or he was going to drop the hammer and grab Dwalin. This had been a bad idea. Having the warrior so close was having an unfortunate effect on his thoughts and in truth, his whole self. He was trying desperately not to tremble, and certainly that wasn't a little sigh of desire escaping? He blushed as his fingers loosened slightly and he heard Dwalin rumble something approving behind him.

"Good." Dwalin let his own grip gentle a bit. He'd heard that sigh and it stoked the fire in his blood, the fire his scribe had lit and wasn't about to go out now. No, if anything, it burned hotter. And the feel of the lad in his arms, Mahal, it felt so good. "Here." He moved a bit closer, pressing up against Ori's back, not above a little teasing. "Raise it like so, and swing."

It was a passable swing, even though it wouldn't have done much damage. That would come later, when he had more strength to his arms. For right now, it was perfect for several reasons. One, that he'd actually managed a decent stroke, and two that it brought him into sharp contact with Dwalin's chest.

Ori's eyes glazed over. That was it. Either Dwalin was teasing him (not likely) or he'd completely misread the situation. He didn't really care. This, he would have this to remember all his long life if nothing else came of it. Then he felt Dwalin's hands leave his and only just managed to stifle the whimper of loss the feeling gave him.

Dwalin tucked his fingers under Ori's chin and turned his face sideways to get a better look at him. Yes, that was his scribe, looking more than a little disturbed at his attentions. He felt the boy move, felt him swivel to have his front now against Dwalin's, and he said nothing, simply staring into those deep eyes that saw everything.

Ori had dropped the hammer when Dwalin's fingers touched his face and it was all but forgotten at his feet. Instead, his hands moved upward to lightly touch Dwalin's in turn, soothing the wicked scar that ran from his head all the way down across his nose. He could have died from such a thing and Ori was suddenly very, very glad he hadn't. "This is beautiful," he murmured. Then he blushed. He hadn't meant to say anything to break the mood and he was afraid he had.

Dwalin groaned and then crushed Ori to him, kissing him wildly. His scribe, his Ori, thought something about him was beautiful. No one had ever said such a thing to him and with what he already felt, as much as he already wanted the boy, it was too much. He wanted to do everything he'd thought about, had considered and rejected, had forced from his mind from a sense of responsibility. He no longer cared. Ori wanted HIM as much as he wanted the scribe and that was enough to steal his reason completely.

Ori opened his lips to Dwalin, responding to that wildness, that passion, in the only way he could. There was no conscious thought to it; he was going on instinct. It felt right and Dwalin obviously approved, if that rumble in his chest was anything to go by. His hands clutched at Dwalin's shoulders, seeking purchase and finding nothing but sweat slick skin.

Dwalin finally pulled back, his face full of need. "Not here, lad," he said, his voice laden with regret. "If you're serious about wanting this, best we be discreet." He felt Ori's slight body against him and almost, ALMOST decided he didn't care that they were in a public area. But he wouldn't shame his Ori that way. "Come to me. Tonight." He watched Ori's face, hoping to see some sign that he would be there.

Ori nodded, not trusting his voice. He didn't want to leave Dwalin's now loose embrace. He didn't want to lose that contact with the warrior's body. But Dwalin was right. There was too much chance of being seen here. And while their – association – wouldn't be remarked upon by their fellow Dwarves, Men seemed to take exception to things of this nature. No, better to be, as Dwalin had said, discreet.

Then he stepped back, already missing the warmth of Dwalin's arms bout him.

"After dinner," he promised softly, finally able to find his voice. Then, with a quick kiss, he was gone.

It took several minutes for Dwalin to calm his racing heart and pick up the hammer. If this was the reward he got for trying to teach his scribe, he'd have to do it more often.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything even remotely recognizable in this story. JRR Tolkien, New Line Cinema, and a LOT of other interests with a LOT more money than I have do and I'm just borrowing to have a little fun. Everyone will be put back when I'm finished (maybe a little the worse for wear) and I'm not making any money off this so please don't sue me.**

**THIS STORY CONTAINS SOME PRETTY SERIOUS SEX OF THE SLASH PERSUASION. If same sex couples bother you or you object to homosexuality, give it a pass. You've been warned. Flames will be saved for this winter to heat the house with.**

**Author's note: This story is NOT beta'd. I accept responsibility for any and all mistakes contained herein. If you'd like to point one out, and will do it nicely, you're more than welcome to do so via PM. If you just want to bitch, take it out the door please.**

**Author's note the second: This is a big departure from my comfort zone. PirateColey asked me for some serious Dwori smut and this is the result.**

**Dedicated to: My darling AJ, whom I still miss terribly and always will. A piece of my soul is with her where she waits for me. She would have loved this story. And to PirateColey, for pushing me outside my comfort zone and making me deliver what I think is some of my very best writing.**

**NOTE: In this chapter, italicized words are Khuzdul. **

Part Three

Dinner was simply torture.

Dwalin kept trying not to look at Ori, who was pointedly not looking at him. Dori was fussing over his youngest brother, trying to be certain Ori wasn't ill because he was only picking at his food and looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

Thorin caught Dwalin's eye with a smirk, much like the one he wore when dealing with his nephews' pranks. He was well aware that something was bothering his friend, and he had a very clear idea now exactly what the bother was. He wasn't sure who, yet, but someone had caught Dwalin's attention. He'd rarely seen the warrior as distracted as he was this night.

He gave a half nod toward the stairs to their sleeping quarters. It was a spacious house that they had been allowed to use, with enough rooms available for all of them to sleep alone if they chose. And he had every intention of furthering his friend's aims for the evening.

Dwalin gave him a small bow of his head and rose, headed up the stairs to his room, wondering in the deepest corner of his mind if Ori would come. The scribe had promised to come, had kissed him, had responded to his advances with a fire that had shaken him to his very center. Would he come?

He was sitting on the side of the bed contemplating cleaning his axes again when the door opened slightly and Ori slipped through, closing it firmly behind him and leaning up against it for a moment. "Dori is going to be the death of me," he said simply.

"I'm sure he'll be kept busy for the time being," Dwalin rumbled comfortingly. Thorin wasn't blind. He'd keep the others occupied for the evening, those that remained. Nori and Bofur had already made an exit, separately but then everyone understood what was going on anyway. Well, except Dori. He didn't want to see.

No, Thorin had sent him up here, and had known what he was about. He'd keep the others at bay.

Dwalin rose and held out a hand, hoping his scribe would take it. He had plans for the boy, now that he knew Ori wanted him as well. He was going to make the lad squirm and love every minute of it.

Ori took his hand and stepped closer, blushing. His free hand rose and landed on Dwalin's chest, absently plucking at the ring of his bandolier. Now that he had what he wanted – which was Dwalin of course – he had no inkling of what to do next.

A few of his previous brief encounters came to mind and he blushed again, then stepped back for just a moment, releasing Dwalin's hand only to bring both of his own to his clothing. He stripped then, slowly, teasingly removing one single item at a time until he was totally nude and then he moved to stand close again.

Dwalin had to remind himself to keep breathing.

Ori was beautiful. Those ridiculous knit garments had been hiding a lot. They made him look slight, and he really wasn't. He was still slender, but that was where the deception had come in. His shoulders were muscled, his stomach flat and taut, and Mahal, there was strength hidden under all those clothes.

Ori moved close then and kissed him, letting all the desire he'd been holding in check for so long come to the fore. He gently placed both hands on Dwalin's chest, working his hands slowly under Dwalin's clothing to skate lightly along the skin. "You're wearing too many clothes," he said softly before kissing Dwalin again, running his tongue along the warrior's and drawing another rumbling noise from the bigger Dwarf.

Dwalin stepped back and removed his own clothing, his sense of discipline forcing him to fold them neatly and place them on the chair before turning back to his Ori. HIS Ori. He could say that now, with certainty – the lad had come to him full willing and MAHAL what was he doing with those strong fingers?

Ori had wrapped his hand around Dwalin and was stroking, light, teasing touches that only managed to make him even harder. He was listening closely to the sounds his warrior was making, adjusting his touch and pull to the ones that brought the most needy sounds from him. "On the bed," he said softly, pushing gently back against Dwalin's chest with his free hand.

Dwalin tumbled backward onto the bed, dragging Ori with him, kissing him wildly. This was a side of the scribe he had never seen, a confident, strong lad who knew what he wanted and was going to get it. And it excited him even more than before. His own hands were busy, mapping every inch of his Ori, touching each and every bit of skin he could reach, skimming lightly over his body, barely making contact, and he felt Ori shiver.

Ori was on fire. Each touch of Dwalin's strong hands on him burned, leaving trails of heat behind them as they moved over him. He felt that heat pooling into his belly and pulled back slightly, his breathing ragged, to watch his warrior wonderingly. "What do you want," he asked softly as he let his hands still for a moment.

Dwalin pulled him in close, nuzzling into his hair and then nipping at the skin of his throat, his shoulders. "You," he said simply as he rained teasing little bites all along Ori's body, working downward. His hands were steady now, holding the boy's hips close to his, feeling them fit together and it was the most delicious torture he'd ever felt.

Ori was beyond trembling now, he was literally shaking with need. The teeth pulling at his skin, Dwalin's hands on his hips, and the obvious need in both of them was conspiring to drive him insane. He wanted more. His hands had shifted to trace Dwalin's scars and tattoos and Dwalin growled, the sound making Ori, if possible, more determined to have what he wanted. He lowered his lips to Dwalin's, kissing him with mounting urgency, nibbling along his lower lip as he brought them into even closer contact, pushing Dwalin back to lie on the bed and straddling his hips. And again his fingers found that hardness and stroked it teasingly.

Dwalin tightened his grasp on the lad's hips, gentling his touch only enough that it wouldn't leave bruises. He wasn't letting his scribe go any time soon and a groan of pure lust forced its way from him as Ori suddenly dropped forward and nipped at his neck, then laved the stinging spot with his tongue. Slowly, maddeningly, he moved lower, nipping, licking, and teasing until he reached the prize and Dwalin dropped his head back with a wordless growl as Ori took him in his mouth. It took all his will not to finish right then.

Ori heard that growl and smiled, letting a low chuckle travel through his lips and around Dwalin's hardness as he slowly, teasingly, swallowed that length down inch by torturous inch, running his tongue along the underside as he rose back up, only to repeat the process a tiny bit more quickly.

Dwalin's hands gripped Ori more tightly and he had to remind himself to loosen it some; he didn't want to leave bruises. But what that boy was doing to him, Mahal, where had he learned all this? Dwalin certainly hadn't expected it. It was an unexpected bounty and his eyes were crossing and if he didn't want this over before it really started -

One hand went to Ori's ginger hair and threaded through, drawing him upward and away from that maddening friction, back to where Dwalin could look him in the eye. He was gratified to see the need still pulsing there, need he knew he was the only one to quench. The lad burned hotter than a forge and Dwalin wanted to lose himself in that heat. He drew his Ori in and ravaged his mouth, letting their skins melt together as he wrapped his hands around the boy and held him tightly, rolling them over so Ori was underneath and then grasping his hands down and away from his sides. The lad wanted to tease, did he? Then Dwalin would show him how it was done.

He kept a firm grip on Ori's hands, refusing to allow him to move at all as he slowly nibbled his way downward. Where Ori had been gentle, Dwalin's teeth weren't so much and little red marks began to show on the scribe's pale skin where Dwalin was obviously marking his claim. And he wasn't quiet, either. Each mark was punctuated by a sigh, or a gasp, or an outright moan when Dwalin lingered a bit longer than before. He squirmed wildly, trying to get his hands free, desperate to touch, and arched upward with a cry when Dwalin nuzzled around him but didn't TOUCH. Kisses, nips, little bite marks aside, he didn't touch the one part of Ori that was BEGGING for attention and the boy lost what little control he still had, trying to get his hands free, broken Khuzdul coming from him as he pleaded for something he couldn't identify. Or just to be allowed to touch Dwalin again, he wasn't certain.

"What d'ye want, Ori?" Dwalin demanded softly as he moved back upward, keeping himself in contact with the boy's body, still holding him immobile and just holding himself still against his scribe. "D'ye want me t'let you go?" He wasn't about to, no matter what Ori said. The scribe belonged to him, and he was only waiting to have him mindless before he claimed that right.

"No!" Ori arched upward under him, trying to keep their skins touching. His cries were soft, yet piercing. He needed, he wanted, and he wasn't sure Dwalin was going to deliver. Teasing was far too weak a word for what Dwalin was doing to him. "Need you – Dwalin – _yours, always yours, __Mahal, want to feel you inside me, make me whole, make us one!"_

Dwalin didn't hesitate. The simple NEED screaming at him from the scribe's body and voice was more than enough to fan the flames that had already settled into his flesh. He released Ori's hands and drew him in close, holding him tightly with one hand while the other scrabbled in his pack at the edge of the bed and found a small vial of oil. He was nearly as desperate as Ori, but he wasn't going to savage his love.

Ori was pressing little kisses and nips along Dwalin's throat, his hands desperately skimming across the warrior's body, trying to keep in contact and sobbing wildly when Dwalin pulled back slightly to show Ori what he held.

"We'll be one, Ori, I promise," he soothed as he drew his scribe near enough to spread his thighs a bit wider and run one thick finger down the cleft of his ass. He was shaking himself, needing to claim the lad as his own. Oil dribbled between them and Ori's hands were suddenly there, slicking up Dwalin's fingers and then his own, then drawing his own fingers down to touch his entrance while Dwalin nearly stopped breathing from the sight.

Ori had done this before, allowing his lovers to watch, but this brought the act to a new level. He was already panting, sighing, moaning and wanting more, wanting Dwalin inside him with an intensity he'd never expected to feel. One finger slid easily inside, and then another, and then he saw the expression on Dwalin's face.

To call it hunger would be akin to calling a diamond a piece of pretty glass.

Dwalin had his hands fisted at his sides, trying to calm himself enough to give them what they both wanted. He had to regain some sort of control or this wasn't going to last, and he wanted his first joining with his Ori to be something long remembered. That it would be wild and full of heat went without saying; Ori had surprised him in so many ways already, and the passion the boy had shown him simply awed him.

He reached forward slightly, wanting to touch, NEEDING to touch his scribe. Ori simply scissored a third finger in, allowing his head to fall back with a groan that Dwalin echoed and suddenly it was just too much. Dwalin's big hands moved Ori's smaller one aside and he slid his fingers inside the opening, gasping slightly at the heat, the tightness he found there. Ori fell back with a keening cry, wanting more. _"Dwalin, love, please, I can't wait, PLEASE!" _The Khuzdul flowed from his lips even as his hands plucked at Dwalin's skin, his arms, any portion of the warrior he could reach, trying to bring him closer and make them one.

Dwalin took a deep breath as he moved upward again. "Ori. Ori, _atamanel,_ look at me." He grasped the boy's face in his hands, breathing raggedly. "Ori. If I claim you – _I will never let you go."_ He had to make his scribe understand. He'd never been this intense, this hungry. He'd never felt such a need to be one with a lover and it rocked him to his very foundations. "Ori."

Ori held his gaze for only a moment before nodding and Dwalin waited no longer. He surged forward, claiming Ori's lips with his own as he thrust into that heat, taking the lad's cries into his mouth to mingle with his own. One hand held Ori's hip with bruising force, the other stroked him in time with Dwalin's thrusts, bringing him so close to the edge and then slowing, teasing the scribe, wanting him to be completely mindless when it took him.

Neither of them could last long. There was too much passion, too much heat, too much need for them to feel for long without release. Ori threw back his head and howled, his hands clinging to Dwalin like a lifeline, shuddering and his release sparked Dwalin's. The warrior thrust sharply once more, then stiffened and gave a roar as he felt it take him.

He collapsed next to his Ori and brought the shaking scribe close in to hold him, tracing soothing circles on his back and rumbling soft Khuzdul to try and calm him. He knew how the lad felt; he'd NEVER experienced such a joining. He certainly hadn't known it was only going to sharpen what he felt. He had meant what he told Ori. He was never going to let him go. He only wanted one Dwarf in his bed for the rest of his life, and it was the scribe.

That was when he knew.

The urge to protect the lad, even from the start. The urge that had quickly become a need. The need to see him safe, to be near him, to need HIM. It had all been part and parcel of something he had never expected to find; many Dwarves didn't.

Ori was his One.

But when he would have shared the revelation with his Ori, he discovered that the lad had drifted to sleep in his arms. Sighing softly, content to simply hold the ginger haired Dwarf, he covered them both and let himself relax finally into slumber as well. Tomorrow would be soon enough to talk of their future.

~FIN~


End file.
